Verdict
by Toccata No. 9
Summary: Lunatic is injured during a fight and finds his identity compromised as a result.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I do not own.**

* * *

_Get up._

Yuri Petrov is on his hands and knees. He can't breathe. His arms are shaking, his vision blurs hot and wet _(stop it, you're a grown man),_ he struggles to suck air into his lungs through the confines of his ribcage. Something has fractured inside of him, forcing exhale after exhale out as a stutter that turns to gagging because he can't _cough_ while his chest might as well be caving in on itself. The noises he makes are disgusting. Hopefully Hero TV isn't capturing that.

The NEXT comes to stand directly in front of him, shoes planted firmly side by side. Yuri can't even look him in the face, feels a cold weight drag into his stomach because the man could kick him right now and there would be nothing at all he could do about it. His eyes are wide as he chokes, starts to retch. _If you vomit inside this mask you will drown and die and it will be your own damn fault._

"Nothing to say, Lunatic?"

_I would, but there might be children watching._

He can practically feel the smirk on Howard Powell's face. Specializes in energy absorption. Hit him, burn him, stab him—he'd convert it all for his own use. Faster and stronger than he had any right to be. The media settled on calling him Powerhouse.

This man committed murder in a yellow suit like it was a game. He had to be brought to justice.

Yuri feels his hands begin to burn. He reaches forward.

Powell's foot connects.

Everything goes dark.

* * *

_"Come on, come on, come on. Wake up you stupid bastard."_

He's being jostled up and down, moving fast, supported by metal. His chest is on fire. He opens his eyes, briefly sees lights and roads growing distant as the world turns, tilts while his eyes fix on the pavement beneath him. He heaves once. Again. Everything slows, stills.

"Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck."

He finds himself lowered to the ground quickly, his mask jerked back over his nose.

"Breathe. Just breathe, you don't have to—"

Yuri empties his stomach.

An arm is wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him upright. He's trembling badly, gasping, unable to wipe his own mouth. Yuri decides this is vaguely mortifying.

"It's going to be okay, you're okay, talk to me Lunatic come on…"

Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, and it hurts, and the world slides out of focus once more.

* * *

There is wind on his cheeks.

Yuri's vision swims as paramedics push ahead at either side he must be on a stretcher his mouth and nose are cupped by an oxygen mask his hair itches beneath his neck he begins to panic to pull unable to rise a hand presses him back he notices something smooth surrounding his eyes and realizes

realizes

somebody has covered his face.

* * *

It takes some time before he's fully aware of himself again.

The room is white, sterile. There is a window to his left. The light spilling over the sheets is gold. Late afternoon.

He feels numb, dizzy, heavy. His breath is even, if tight. Yuri moves to raise his hand to his face and finds it held in place.

Handcuffs.

How lovely.

"He's awake."

His eyes flit to the side. The doctor is probably in her forties, a little chubby, wearing scrubs. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line. The nurse nods once, walks out the door.

Yuri lets his head drop momentarily, hair slipping over his shoulders. The domino mask remains in place.

Kotetsu's mask.

That idiot.

"Have I been here long?" He murmurs.

There is no answer. He starts to sigh, hitches, stops.

"You broke three ribs." The voice is impassive, a little hoarse. Possibly a smoker. "Breathing too deep isn't going to be fun for a while. Try to be careful."

"I appreciate your concern." He sinks back into the pillow, closes his eyes. It occurs to him that his mother has probably been alone this entire time. He wonders if she's noticed.

Eventually, the door opens.

"Hey."

Yuri looks up. Kotetsu is standing in the doorway, hand dropping to his side from an apparent wave (pointless—it wasn't as if he'd been looking), lips pulled into an uncomfortable smile like he isn't sure it should be there.

"Hey," says Yuri, and finds he has nothing to add.

Kotetsu glances at the doctor. "Could you, uh…would it be alright if…."

She waves him off. "Don't worry, I get it." The door opens once again, closes behind her.

Just the two of them now.

After a moment, Kotetsu takes a chair next to the door, pulls it to his bedside. Sits.

"You okay?"

"What are you doing, Kaburagi?" He sounds more exhausted than annoyed, even to himself.

"Jeez, _Yuri. _You could at least thank me first. I kind of saved your ass back there."

His fingers curl into his palms. He doesn't move for some time.

"Who knows about this?"

"Just Ben for now," says Kotetsu, leaning against the arm of his seat. "He kinda had to."

Yuri blinks. "You haven't told Brooks?"

"He's pretty pissed about it." There's a pause. "Actually, everyone's pretty pissed about it come to think."

After another moment, Yuri looks at his knees. "Why are you bothering with this?"

When the answer comes, he can feel the hero's eyes on him. "You almost got yourself killed. I owed you one."

"You realize you could have saved my life and been done with it."

Kotetsu hums once, then says "I would have saved you anyway. It doesn't count."

Yuri feels his throat tighten. He turns away. They remain for a while in silence.

"Yuri?"

He doesn't look back. "What is it?"

"How about you explain to me why you've been killing people?"

Yuri finds himself chuckling. It builds, catches, continues on far longer than it should. At least he isn't being loud.

There's a hand on his shoulder. "Cut it out. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Hon…honestly now?" He thinks of all the interviews Wild Tiger has given, the incessant praise his father receives time after time after time. Mr. Legend. No longer Sternbild's greatest hero. Never really a hero at all. "It's irrelevant."

The hand remains.

"What happened to your face?"

His lips curl, and there's something distantly painful about it. "You really ought to ask my mother."

Kotetsu's grip tightens. "I'm asking you."

Slowly, the tension drains out of him. "This is getting boring. I think it's time for you to leave."

The hand falls away. "Damn it, why won't you answer?"

"There isn't anything you can do about it," says Yuri.

Another silence. "I want to know exactly what kind of guy I'm protecting here, Mr. Petrov. You owe me that."

Yuri doesn't smile. "And here I thought we were even."

"I changed my mind."

"Of course you did." He closes his eyes once more. Eventually, he explains, "I tried to protect someone, once. It didn't end well."

"Your mom?"

"I'm tired, Kotetsu," says Yuri quietly. "Please."

When Kotetsu speaks again, his tone is kinder than expected. "I'm going to figure this out, you know."

"I have no doubt you will," Yuri agrees. "But it won't be because of me."


	2. Chapter 2

They don't press him as hard as anticipated. Yuri suspects this will change as his condition improves.

Jackson is firm, unflappable. When asked he explains how Blue Rose took Powerhouse into custody (heat was an energy she effectively sapped), how Kotetsu has been looking after mother dear in the meantime. He says without prompting that she's in the thick of an episode, asking dad where their boy could be. Crying, shaking, carrying on. The sole living player in her fantasy is gone.

Jackson questions if she should be brought in. Yuri thinks of his mother seeing him chained to a hospital bed, and her smile as she says how dad will be _so relieved_.

His voice doesn't waver as he states that won't be necessary.

When the president of Apollon speaks again, he points out that they're uncovering more of his past by the day. It will make all of their lives easier if he just comes clean.

Yuri wants to know why they haven't unveiled him to the public yet.

There is something like disappointment in Jackson's expression before responding. A lowering of the eyes, pressing of the lips. Evidently Hero TV is fighting for a way to keep him in the program. Some form of compromise may need to be reached.

It's enough to make him feel ill.

* * *

Brooks shows up when Kotetsu learns the truth. Yuri finds himself expecting more as the hero takes his seat, watching impassively behind his glasses. Of all people, he doesn't have the best track record where composure is concerned.

"How could you do it?"

Yuri stares at the sheets and struggles to find words for this figurehead, this human being whose own parents were murdered, this person in no position at all to understand.

His own kind of justice.

His punishment for the criminals society fails to recognize.

His protection for those the world will not save.

"Do you think it was easy?" he hears himself whisper, and wonders for a moment if he's been heard before deciding it doesn't matter either way. "Life isn't so neat, unfortunately. My father…was not a hero."

"He was your dad." And there is something so painfully, childishly earnest about that fact.

It sounds terribly inadequate to say he'd been terrified. For both of them. His mother never recovered and he…he'd been a child.

Was that any excuse?

"No," says Yuri.

The first time his mother spoke to him again was after the funeral. They were in the sitting room. It had been overcast that day, and she was in the chair. He'd been helping her. He hadn't known what to expect.

She slapped him twice. Screamed. Sobbed.

_You're better off dead! How could you? How could you?_

"We would have been killed." He registers the words as if someone else is speaking them, remembers falling to his knees on the hardwood floor begging mom to stop he had to, he had to do it dad wouldn't stop please stop mom stop it—

"Lunatic."

He looks up. Brooks is watching him closely. His own hands are wrapped, white knuckled, around the bed rails. Yuri exhales, softly, and lets go.

"It'll be easier if you say something," says Brooks.

A smile creeps over his face. "Do you really think I care about that?"

"Why not?"

"How about we talk about your parents instead?" counters Yuri.

Brooks' eyebrows draw together in a scowl, jaw clenching. He half rises in his chair. Stops. Slowly, his expression smooths over.

"It's like that?"

Yuri hesitates. "Not in every sense," he replies, cautious. "Perhaps."

Brooks falls back. "Try me."

For several moments, Yuri doesn't blink. "You do realize this won't change anything."

"I guess that means you've got nothing to lose."

He can't bring himself to argue on that. Gradually, Yuri lets his shoulders drop.

"If you insist."


	3. Chapter 3

Alone, Yuri considers whether it would be possible to melt the handcuffs without hurting himself. He considers whether it might be worth doing regardless.

_And where would that get you?_

He is at the mercy of Apollon Media. Of Wild Tiger. Of an entire city who might know his name in a heartbeat.

Honestly, there is nowhere to go.

Sternbild isn't willing to save itself. Sternbild will despise him for trying.

This isn't a surprise.

Yuri watches as metal glows in a blaze around his wrists. Then, bit by bit, the fire dies.

He's shaking.

_Failure._

Heroes get praise. Heroes are rewarded. Lunatic did what was necessary and kept the world safe.

If he escaped he'd be hunted, and inevitably he'd be caught and tried and imprisoned as a criminal himself.

_Useless._

Maybe this was justice.

Yuri remains where he is as the bonds cool in place.

* * *

"It wasn't your fault."

Kotetsu stands with his hands in his pockets, shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the other. He receives no answer.

"Yuri."

Yuri is studying his knees, arms limp, spine pressed into the slope of the mattress. His eyes flit to Kotetsu. He remains silent.

The older man sighs, steps forward.

"I'm not sure if it does make any difference. Everyone afterward is totally on you. But he… Mr. Legend was…"

"I know," says Yuri. He looks down again. "They're all like that, Kotetsu."

"What are you talking about? Of course they're not, that's—"

"Lunacy?" Yuri's mouth twitches. Kotetsu stills. "I am no different from anyone else. Human beings are disposed to beat and slaughter each other every so often. I'd hoped to minimize the damage."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Doesn't it?" asks Yuri. "How many innocent lives would have been spared if my father simply finished Jake Martinez when he'd had the chance?"

"But you…you don't have the right to pass judgment on people!"

Yuri laughs. Winces. "Lets leave my professional life out of this, mm?"

Kotetsu rolls his eyes. "Oh for the love of—"

"To answer your point, I make it a policy _not _to let criminals repeat themselves. Offer them to the world as an example."

Leaning forward, Kotetsu snaps, "That's not what I meant!"

Yuri raises his eyebrows. "Well."

After a beat, Kotetsu straightens. Pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't you get it? You're not in a position to know what drives somebody at a given moment. Hell, you could be wrong about whether they're even guilty or not." He drops his hand to his side. "We're just a bunch of regular guys. It's not up to us to decide what people deserve."

"How unfortunate that we can't all sit back and watch."

Kotetsu lets out a snarl of frustration, draws up an arm. Yuri sees the darkness of the garage, the empty glass bottles, the way dad bore his teeth first in anger then in grim satisfaction as flames ate away at them both. There is a clang as handcuffs slam against the rails. Yuri stares, wide-eyed, straining backward while his visitor retreats a step.

"Jesus," says Kotetsu. Then, "I swear I wasn't going to hit you."

"I am not a delicate flower," says Yuri numbly, unmoving. "We've fought before."

"That's different. You're still messed up, it's not like you could…" Kotetsu trails off. Yuri remains frozen in place. After some hesitation, the hero places a palm between his shoulder blades, moving it up and down rhythmically.

Yuri releases an exhale. Another.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay, no one's gonna—"

"Please leave," says Yuri, voice wavering. _"_Please._"_

Kotetsu stays where he is.


	4. Chapter 4

"No."

Jackson's gaze does not waver. "Mr. Petrov, you do understand that you're a recognized serial killer under the law. To call this leniency would be putting it mildly."

Yuri slumps forward. His hands begin to rise, jerk against the chains, lower once more. He closes his eyes.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

"I'm telling you that this is the only option left that doesn't involve jail time," says Jackson. "There are no more murders. Simple as that."

"The entire thing is obscene."

"Of course it is." Jackson props himself on his knees. "You shouldn't be so surprised."

"My methods have protected this city more thoroughly than your heroes could hope to accomplish," says Yuri. There is a note of desperation in his voice, and he resents himself for it.

"Your methods have raised the body count and denied countless individuals their basic rights" says Jackson. "You're getting an opportunity to do some real good right now. Are you going to throw that away?"

"So I'm supposed to become a spectacle for the public's amusement."

Jackson doesn't miss a beat. "If you accept our offer, you might just become a hero."

Yuri chuckles bitterly.

"Well. It seems I have no choice."

* * *

He isn't fully recovered when it's time to meet the press, and he doesn't care. They provide his usual costume and leave him to dress. Putting the mask on again, his own mask, feels more like a betrayal than a reassurance. Yuri leans against the bed. He feels off-balance after so long, but if nothing else the freedom is a relief.

Kotetsu and Brooks arrive to escort him. Kotetsu tries to make light of it. Tells him he's doing the right thing. That it's almost like a fresh start.

Yuri feels as as if lead is being shoved down his throat, causing his stomach to sink and twist in unpleasant ways. He looks straight ahead as he walks and does not answer.

* * *

Jackson's speech is meant to be inspiring, full of forgiveness and redemption and other such revolting sentiments. Eventually, everyone turns to him. Keep it brief, they'd said. Try not to ruin everything.

Addressing the masses has never particularly bothered Yuri before. Lying it isn't difficult. But positioned before his city, his father's city, he finds himself with nothing to say.

He wants to leave. He wants to hurl himself into the sky trailing fire as the world grows distant beneath him, where his reflection chases him across skyscrapers, where he can briefly pretend none of this really applies to him.

"I am here to protect Sternbild," says somebody in his voice, "whatever it takes. I promise to ensure your safety, to punish those who would harm you, to become a hero you can trust. Serving is all I have ever wanted, and I will do that to the best of my ability."

The crowd claps for Lunatic. Billboard and television screens everywhere zoom in on his face as if something new might be revealed by the unmoving features. He can only keep his spine straight and his shoulders squared, waiting for it to be over.

* * *

"Yuri..."

She's staring at him, mouth parted, fingers going to her lips. He stops short.

"Mom."

Her eyes shine and begin to leak. A fragile smile flickers into being.

"My, you have been out late. Your father and I were beginning to worry."

His throat constricts, painfully.

_Of course._

"Sorry. I'll try to do better from now on."

* * *

_So you've become a sell-out._

Yuri sits at his desk with the blinds drawn, nursing a cup of tea. Across the room, his father smirks at him.

No. He imagines his father smirks at him. He does this to himself.

He always does this to himself.

_Huh. You really are useless._

Yuri watches his reflection shiver in his grip_._

"I'll save as many people as I can," says Yuri. "It will have to be enough."

_You know as well as I do that this has never been about saving people._

The tea is sloshing dangerously close to the brim. He puts it down.

_Cut the bullshit already. You've been using this to try and justify your own guilt from the beginning. Why should you care what happens to those idiots?_

"They don't deserve it."

_Just like_ _you didn't deserve it, right? Don't be ridiculous. You're a selfish son of a bitch who jumps to extremes because you can't deal with the truth. _

"Oh?" says Yuri, the word quivering against his teeth. "And what is that?"

_Life doesn't divide perfectly into good and evil. Or do you really think everything turned worthless once I had a few drinks?_

Yuri thinks of his father reading to him at night, teaching him to play catch, re-enacting fights with sounds and gestures that made him laugh himself breathless. He thinks of his father instructing him on morality and responsibility and devoting yourself to them both. He thinks of the first time he realized dad was a hypocrite, and how the bruise across mom's face lingered for days afterward.

"Yes," answers Yuri to the empty air, "I do."

* * *

**AN: **This may or may not be finished. I'm going to sit on it a while and consider. If it is finished, there's a chance I'll do a sequel. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it a ton!


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